As I ga’ed oot one morning fair
To view the meadows round
Well there I saw a pretty girl
Come trippin’ o’er the ground
Chorus
Sing blow ye winds in the morning
Blow ye winds aye-o
Clear away the runnin’ gear
And blow, boys, blow
My father has a milk white steed
He keeps it in the stall
It winnae eat it’s hay or corn
And it winnae go at all
I told my tale unto the maid
She laughed right in my face
So I took her off to the horses stall
And I put her in the horses place
She says this is an awful thing
To treat a maiden so
Take off the reigns and halter
And to sea with you I’ll go
She dressed up in her Sunday best
To meet me at the church
But my lugger sailed the night before
And I left her in the lurch
To my fathers farm I can’t go back
For fear she might be there
For the marriage game is not for me
To that I roundly swear